The Unexpected

Thomas McCarthy

Early April suddenly ablaze and unexpected pear blossom

 As rampant as de Chardin's sudden forms of life, as

 Delicate as the lacquer-work left over from a raid

 Of winter that scattered so many things since autumn -

 You could hardly fathom what April brought in on the breeze,

 What organic matter-of-fact things, what an impolite cascade

 Of broken crockery in pink and green. It’s like that election

 Heard in the distance, beyond the fat privet hedge,

 An election that has set the traffic lights on edge

 And caused this collision of ideas. From our quiet section

 I can hear anxieties rolling in. But are these not the same as last

 Time? Is she not the same? And he, is he not like a gardener

 Gone berserk, flat cap askew, trying to make regular

 What swarms; life itself, that is, now swarming on the grass?